


Moody Model and the Random Pedestrian

by orphan_account



Category: Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children (2016)
Genre: Confused Jake is confused, Fluff, Grumpy Enoch is grumpy, HollowHeart - Freeform, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Model!AU, Original Character(s), There'll be fluff for sure, model!Enoch, model!Jake, we'll see how this goes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-28 00:19:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8423386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: AU: in which Enoch is a model and Jake is a random pedestrian on the street who gets scouted to do a photoshoot with him.
Ft. Enoch fangirls





	

Jake is in the process of tying his shoes when he sees him. He’s in his silly yellow raincoat despite the non-rain outside (because he’d set out to be a tourist so it was the only outerwear he brought from home, and it’s  _ cold _ , damn it), half-bent over. His eyes are glued to the boy.

It could be the seriously well-fitted peacoat. It could also be the intimidatingly professional-looking camera, or the equally intimidatingly professional-looking camerawoman behind it. In reality it probably has a lot to do with the latter… but all Jake can concentrate on is the look on his face. Even crouching ten feet away, he can see the dark angry lines where the model’s eyebrows are furrowed menacingly, and the cynical downturn of his mouth.

_ I mean, he’s got to be a model, right? No normal human being should be able to sulk and look like—that. _

“Come on, Enoch, you’ve got to work with me here!”

“I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to do,” says the model—Enoch, Jake assumes— _ whines _ , really, with a surprising Scottish lilt. The menacing eyebrows give way, raising in exasperation. “What more do you want?”

“Give me more of that smoulder. Less scowling! No, not—I didn’t say  _ more _ scowling! Alright, alright, just stay like that for a moment...”

Jake jolts as the distinct feeling of being watched suddenly washes over him. Okay, yeah, he’s been crouching at his shoe for a weirdly long time, so he’s probably looking pretty sketchy to any passersby. He gets up quickly, wincing when his knee creaks, and glances around himself, subtly looking for the culprit.

Jake doesn’t find them, but he does notice for the first time the five-or-so girls (and one boy) standing a ways off to his side. Thankfully, they seem to be too busy giggling amongst themselves to spare him a second glance.

Unless they’re giggling at Jake. That happened to him a lot back in Florida, though he could never figure out why. It was never  _ nice _ giggling too—it was mean, he could tell.

(If they’re giggling at him, that would suck, because can’t Jake even vacation in a different country without inadvertently becoming a laughing stock?)

So Jake’s a little testy over that. Sue him.

But he needn’t be, because on a closer listen, the causation is the sulky model and his very nicely-fitted peacoat.

“ _ Holy mother of God _ he looks good in that coat.”

“Fuck, shit!”

“Guys, I can’t. I… bleurgh! I’m out.”

“He’s right there. I still can’t believe we just stumbled into this super sketchy alley and he was  _ right there _ .”

“My child. He’s so cute with his little grumpy face.”

Moody Model—it suits him better than  _ Enoch _ , Jake decides—doesn’t seem to even notice the squeals he’s inducing with his glowers of increasing distaste. Which Jake doesn’t understand, because they’re in an otherwise deserted alley, and the gaggle of girls (and one boy, don’t forget the boy) isn’t exactly hidden.

He’s not jealous. Not at all.

(That’s totally a lie—if Jake had ever received even a tenth of the attention this guy is getting, he would be whooping for joy. And maybe a little concerned, too, because when has he ever gotten positive reactions to his doe-eyed, ungainly looks?)

“What d’you mean, make my eyes  _ simmer _ ?”

And the accent. The accent is a thing that Jake doesn’t have, either. He’s stuck with his boring American accent—that doesn’t even sound legitimate, he’s been told—boring when he’s talking normally, and boring when he’s raising his voice in annoyance.

_ What is this, a pity party? _

Jake cringes. His conscience is right; he should stop. This  _ woe is me _ attitude is going to get him nowhere. Besides, there is still much of London that he hasn’t explored yet, so he should probably get go—

_ Was that a tap on his shoulder? _

Jake turns around, slowly.

“Uh…”

“Hello! What’s your name?”

He falters at the woman in front of him, gaping a bit. Did he just stumble into an alternate dimension, or did she come straight out of an old English mystery?

Seriously—her outfit consists of a very Sherlock-esque trench coat with a dark dress underneath, and her raven-black hair is styled in the most impeccable, complicated-looking thing ever.

Jake wonders if she’d been here in the same alley this entire time, and how on Earth he’d missed her if she had.

She’s still gauging him uncomfortably with those sharp-edged eyes, so Jake should probably answer the question. Preferably without stumbling.

“Uh, it’s Jake.”

_ Damn it. _

“Alma Peregrine, delighted to meet you.”

Jake stares down at their hands as he takes her outstretched one. They shake once; and only when they let go does Jake feel okay enough to look back up.

_ Wait—why does that name sound familiar? _

“Now, Jake, have you ever modeled?”

Jake furrows his eyebrows, eyes getting bluer in confusion. “No?”

“Would you like to?”

“...I’ve never thought about it.”

Alma Peregrine smiles and lets out a bell-like chuckle at his honesty.

“Come along with me Jake, you can try it and find out what you think.”

She doesn’t offer a hand or look back, but Jake is nonetheless compelled to walk with her. And once he does, it becomes quite obvious where they’re headed.

Behind them, the fangirls are beginning to notice, some of them gasping in recognition at the back of the woman’s iconic hairdo. Jake doesn’t notice, though, because how can he when Moody Model looms that much closer?

“Look, Enoch, you’ve got to–”

“Maybe you should just accept that I’m not the model you need for this, Cynthia!”

“No, that’s not it. You just have to get the right look.”

“Are you sure? Because we’ve been at this for a bloody hour already–”

“Enoch, Cynthia, perhaps you are looking at this the wrong way,” comes the smooth interjection of Alma Peregrine, causing both model and photographer to look over with matching sour expressions. Jake averts his eyes quickly, his hand lifting instinctively to finger through his hair as a nervous habit.

The movement, of course, draws the attention of Moody Model, who narrows his dark eyes at the pale boy. Jake doesn’t look at him, but he can  _ feel  _ it.

(What he doesn’t know is that on sight of the boy he’d noticed even before he was standing in front of him, Enoch had felt his breath leave him at that innocent face.  _ So pretty _ .)

“If you were to ask me, what you are missing… is a model.”

The reaction is instantaneous.

“What?  _ Who _ ?”

At least, on Enoch’s end it is.

Alma Peregrine clears her throat and looks at Jake, prompting the other two (and, judging by the sudden burst of harsh whispers in the background, the ever-attentive Enoch fangirls) to follow. 

Moody Model seems to go through a painful bout of emotions. Jake would find the confused-surprised-angry dance his eyebrows do funny if his heart weren’t pounding so hard.

"Uh... Hi, I'm Jake."

Enoch rolls his eyes so hard Jake's a little worried they're going to fall out of their sockets.  The photographer, on the other hand, looks absolutely delighted.

“An American, wonderful! His face and legs are perfect… oh, and his  _ skin _ is like porcelain. Where did you find him?”

Said American shifts uncomfortably. It feels like he’s being talked about as if he weren’t a person but an object, and he doesn’t know what to do with that.

“Miss Peregrine got ‘im off the street,” Enoch mumbles in a quiet voice, but the photographer hears it and sends him a horrified look.

So does Jake. He coughs, waiting for the model to clarify what he means, but he doesn’t. Just picks at the wide collar of his peacoat like he didn’t just insinuate that Jake was a homeless person.

A few beats of awkward silence pass before Alma Peregrine sends Enoch a scolding look (which he actually shrinks at, ha!) and an apologetic one at Jake.

“He’s not a bum, Cynthia, you needn’t worry. I was merely lucky enough to catch him as he passed us by.”

“A civilian.”

For some reason, Cynthia looks a lot more relieved at that. And maybe even a little—excited?

_ Yeah, that’s going to change when she sees me 'model' _ ,  Jake cringes. This was a bad idea.

“Just like the good ol’ days,” Cynthia grins happily at a strangely wistful-looking Alma Peregrine.

“Exactly like them,” the other woman says, after a short pause in which all three seem to allow themselves to reminisce something that Jake doesn’t understand. Even Enoch, whose eyes soften at the tight smile on Alma Peregrine’s lips.

Feeling like it is finally safe to do so, Jake takes the time to glide his eyes over the other boy's profile, an unfamiliar swooping sensation in his stomach at the smooth, sharp line of his cheekbone. He is not swooning. Really, he isn't.

The moment doesn’t last as long as it feels. Alma Peregrine seems to snap out of it first, clasping her hands together abruptly with a satisfying  _ clap! _ , causing Jake to jerk his gaze away from Enoch like snapping out of a trance. He catches the woman’s sly eye, and she quirks him a knowing smile.

“Well, I think we need to make wardrobes changes first, don’t you?”

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I'd like to apologise for the complete mess that was my first Hollowheart fic. The writing in that one was just... horrible. I'm learning, though, trying out different styles and all that. Hopefully this one's better so far.
> 
> What do you think of model!Enoch and model!Jake? I personally love it. I'm not sure where I'm going with this story and I can't promise when I'm going to update, but it probably won't be too soon—sorry, school's a bit heavy right now :(
> 
> Anyway, I hope all my fellow Hollowheart shippers out there liked this! Sorry for cutting it off there, but I really wanted to get this out haha. We'll see how the actual photoshoot goes in next chapter...


End file.
